


This is Halloween

by jonsasnow



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Friends reference, Halloween, jonsa, just pure fluff, theyre both silly babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 14:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12819657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsasnow/pseuds/jonsasnow
Summary: Sansa is home alone on Halloween when the motion-activated light turns on outside. It’s okay though, she has a lightsaber.





	This is Halloween

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harumscarum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harumscarum/gifts).



Sansa has never been more thankful than now that the student house she shares with her brother and their friends is at least three blocks away from the main party area. It used to irritate her to no end that their house is so out of the way, but sitting at home alone on Halloween night, Sansa’s glad there’s no noise around to remind her of just how much of a loser she is tonight. 

The house is silent, a rarity when you live with four other people, and all the lights are off aside from the one lamp in the lounge and the glare coming off of the telly. Her windows are closed but she can vaguely see the street lamps outside through the too thin material. All in all, this isn’t Sansa’s smartest plan. She’s sure to scare herself half to death by the end of the night, but Halloween is her favourite holiday of the year. She’s already missing out by not going to the dumb party; she’s not going to completely sleep through the night as well, so armed with a large tub of Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream, Sansa settles in to watch ‘The Exorcism of Emily Rose’. 

Normally, she would employ Robb or Margaery to be her resident body comforter during horror films, but everyone in the house is at that dumb party. She was trying to be selfless when she said it was _totally okay_ for them to go even though _she_ wasn’t due to a certain fair-haired prick of an ex that’ll be there. But whatever. Sansa is a big girl and she can watch a bloody horror film if she so pleases. She can totally do this. 

_No big deal_. 

It’s a third of the way into the film when the movement-activated lights suddenly turn on outside on the patio. Sansa startles. Her flight or fight response is short-circuiting and all she can do in that moment is freeze right where she’s sitting. Someone’s out there; someone’s out there right now. Her brain immediately inform her that it’s most definitely a poltergeist or zombie and she’s about to die, so naturally, Sansa runs upstairs, throwing Robb’s door open and grabbing his fiberglass lightsaber that he spent _far_ too much money on. If she’s going to die, she’ll at least die swinging. 

Cautiously, Sansa edges back down the stairs. The lights are still on so whoever it is outside is still there; otherwise, it would’ve turned off by now. The number one rule of horror films is to _never_ investigate strange noises by yourself, but Sansa’s tired of being everyone’s poor little damsel in distress. She’s tired of guys like Joffrey calling her their ‘little bird’ because she’s so fragile. Sansa Stark is not bloody fragile and she’s going to kill a poltergeist just to prove it.

Sansa tiptoes to the kitchen at the back of the house and slip out into the cool night air. She makes her way around the house, being as quiet and stealthy as physically possible. As she looks around the corner, she sees a looming figure standing to the side of the house with a puffs of smoke wafting into the air around its body. As the rational, _sane_ part of her brain quietly screams at her from within, the defiant, stubborn Stark side of her brain has already propelled her forward, lightsaber high in the air. 

She lets out a war cry as she brings the lightsaber down on the unsuspecting poltergeist, thwacking at its head as hard as she can. It probably should’ve occurred to her right away that poltergeists don’t go, ‘ _ow!_ ’ but she’s in the zone and she’s not backing down.

Abruptly, it grabs the lightsaber and tugs it out of Sansa’s hand. She’s ready to scream bloody murder when it turns around. “ _What the fuck,_ Sansa?” 

For the second time tonight, her brain short-circuits. “Uh…” she starts. “Jon?” And then as if someone had just rebooted her, all of the neurons in her brain start firing off at once. “Jon! What the hell are you doing creeping around the house like that? And why are you back so early? Fucking hell, I could’ve killed you!” 

Jon smirks. “With a lightsaber?” He hands it back to her. “I would’ve liked to see that.” 

“Ha ha.” Sansa snorts and crosses her arms petulantly, hoping it’ll distract him from the sure redness of her cheeks. “Well?” 

“I didn’t wanna go anyways,” Jon shrugs. “You know I don’t like parties. And maybe…” He trails off, looking anywhere but at her. 

“What?”

He sighs. “Maybe if I stayed any longer I would’ve kicked the shit out of your ex-boyfriend and I’d rather not get into that with him tonight.” 

Sansa’s heart warms and the irritation she felt at having her wits scared out of her and her night interrupted softens. “Jon,” she murmurs, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “You know you don’t have to stand up for my honour. I’m okay.” 

“It’s not that,” Jon says. “It’s… never mind. Were you really trying to kill an intruder with a lightsaber?” 

Her cheeks flush again. “Not exactly. I was trying to kill a poltergeist.” 

“How was that supposed to work?” Jon inclines his head. The amusement is more than evident in the way he’s smiling at her and Sansa doesn’t hate it, even if it’s at her expense. Jon’s always had a charming smile, which is made more so by the fact that he doesn’t even know it. 

“Shut up, okay?” Sansa shoves him. “You’re the one creeping around your own house.”

“I wasn’t creeping!” Jon laughs as he grabs at her wrist to stop her from shoving him again. “I was having a smoke. There’s a difference, Sans.” She rolls her eyes, so he tugs her a little. “Well, if it helps improve your crusade against poltergeists, you have a hell of an aim. I’m fairly sure I’ll bruise tomorrow.” 

It suddenly dawns on her that Sansa had hit Jon with all she’s worth – on the head, no less. She immediately grabs his face and draws him to her, tilting it this way and that. “Oh my gosh, did it really hurt? Are you bleeding! I’m so sorry, Jon!” 

He laughs, his whole face shaking in her hands. “Sans, I’m fine. I’ve had worse.” 

“No, that’s just – concussions are no laughing matter, Jon!” Sansa lets go of him but only so she could grab his hand and pull him inside the house. “C’mon. I can’t see anything out here. Let me check your head properly.” 

After Sansa sits him by the lamp in the lounge, she runs her hand through his curls, fulfilling one of her _many_ dreams about Jon; albeit, it’s not exactly how she had envisioned this happening. Normally, there’d be a lot less clothes and a lot more biting and scratching; this, however, is still nice though. His hair is softer than it looks and Sansa has to resist the urge to just continue to pet him like a dog. 

Sansa swallows as she pushes his hair away to search for a bruise. There’s a small bump and when she touches it, his whole body tenses, though he doesn’t utter a single peep. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt for my sake,” she tells him, begrudgingly letting her hands drop to her sides. “I already feel bad.” 

“It’s really nothing,” he assures her. “Promise, Sans. I’m okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” she says again just for good measure. “Do you… um, do you want to finish watching The Exorcist with me? I could use a body comforter.” 

“A what?” 

“A _body comforter_ ,” she repeats. “It’s a human pillow, someone I can just grab when scary things happen on screen. It’s usually Robb or Margaery…” 

Jon laughs. “Okay, why not? Just let me get this ridiculous get up off first.” 

“You should keep it!” she pipes up before she can stop herself. She _knew_ Jon was going as some medieval lord commander from one of those fantasy novels Robb and him love so much, but seeing him in the outfit is a whole other story. He looks _good_. 

“What?” Jon arches his brow, his lips twitching slightly. “You want me to keep this on?” 

Sansa shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe…” Perhaps feeling a little emboldened by the fact that she ran out to face an intruder, Sansa curls a finger under the collar of his tunic. “Maybe it works for me.” 

The look on Jon’s face might’ve made her laugh had she not been fighting down her own blush, but it did give seed to the little ball of hope inside of her chest. 

Jon clears his throat. “Is it just the costume or is it…” 

“Oh, you can take everything off and it’d still work for me,” Sansa says, pulling gently at his tunic. She meets his gaze head-on. “But you _are_ Robb’s best friend and we _are_ housemates, so this is just –” 

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence because Jon’s lips are suddenly pressing insistently against hers, as his hand curls around her waist to bring her ever closer to him. His lips taste a little like smoke and beer, but it’s still as intoxicating as everything about Jon. He’s the exact opposite of what she normally finds attractive. He’s dark-haired, broad and physically foreboding, with grey solemn eyes and pouty lips, but he’s also kind, gentle and brave. Jon is Joffrey’s antithesis and it took dating a jerk like that to see the kind of man Jon is. And if he kisses like a god than that’s all the better. 

Pulling apart, Jon rests his forehead against her shoulder, a chuckle running through his body. She pokes at him. “What’s so funny?” 

“This. You. This whole bloody night,” Jon answers. “It’s just… surreal.” 

“We can make it more surreal if you want,” Sansa says, as she pushes him back so she can tug her top over her shoulders. Even though she’s standing there clad in only a simple black bra, Sansa doesn’t feel self-conscious, not even for a second because the way Jon’s eyes dilate and the way his hands tense at his sides says everything she needs to know. How he can make her feel beautiful without even uttering a word while Joffrey made her feel ugly with plenty of sweet words is beyond her, but maybe that’s just Jon. 

“You’re…” he trails off. “I mean… _fucking hell_ , Sansa.” His hands go around her waist, splaying out across her lower back, as Jon leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the space of skin just below her right breast. 

“Less words, Snow, and more –” 

“WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK IS GOING ON!”

Both Jon and Sansa freeze. She feels a prickly kind of panic at the back of her neck. This is exactly why she’s never been explicit about her attraction to Jon before. But before Sansa could make up some feeble excuse, it’s Jon that speaks first. 

“Robb, let me explain.” 

“ _Explain_?” her brother shouts, stepping into the room with Margaery and Sam right behind him. “This is my sister! And you’re my… My _best friend_ and my baby sister! Do you see how _sick_ that is!” 

“It’s not sick!” Jon retorts back as he lets go of Sansa to stand up. “Robb, just calm down. Let me –” 

“Calm?” Robb snorts, laughing mirthlessly. “Oh, I’ll show you fucking calm, Snow!” 

In a whirlwind of motion, Robb starts running after Jon and Jon immediately runs through to the kitchen and out the backdoor. It takes about half a second for Sansa, Margaery and Sam to immediately follow them out into the garden. They’re shouting and Robb is throwing pieces of clothing from his elaborate Iron Man costume at Jon. 

“That’s my fucking sister, you pervert!” 

“Can you just stop for one bloody second!” 

“No, that’s my fucking sister!” 

Sansa ducks as Robb’s shoe goes flying past her ear. The panic has now morphed into full-blown anger. She grabs Robb’s shoe from the ground and throws it at her brother’s head. Of course it misses, but it gets his attention. “Stop! Stop right now! This is my life, Robb!” 

“And I’m your brother so it’s my right to kick any guy’s ass who tries to use you!” Robb shouts back. “I let you have Joffrey and look what happened there!”

“ _Let?_ ” Sansa growls. “LET?” 

“I’m not using her, you prick!” Jon yells abruptly, still running around the garden while Robb chases. It must be a sight for her neighbours. A medieval lord being chased by Iron Man, while Princess Leia, Doctor Who and a girl in her bra look on. Jon gets to the gate and stops. “I’ve been in love with your sister for five fucking years!” 

Everyone stops. Silence falls all around them, and Sansa’s so sure they can all hear her heart beating as it’s trying desperately to escape out of her chest. It feels like the silence lasts forever, like time itself has stopped, but then everything rushes back into focus. Robb drops his other shoe. Margaery squeaks and Sam grumbles, ‘ _oh shit_.’ 

“You’re what?” Robb asks.

A red-faced Jon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I love your sister.” He turns to her with a sheepish smile. “I was really hoping to ask you out then tell you this a few months down the line if it all works out, but… yeah, so… I love you, Sans. I know that’s crazy, but –” 

“I love you too!” she blurts out, much to everyone’s surprise. She hadn’t even realised it herself until now, but it’s true. Jon’s the first person she looks for when she gets home, the first person she goes to when she has a problem, and he’s the _only_ person she wants to spend all of her time with. 

“My little sister and my best friend!” Robb squeals. He grabs Jon’s arm, tugging him over to Sansa, before grabbing her too in a far-too-constricting hug. “My little sister and my best friend are in love, you guys!” 

Margaery and Sam swiftly grab hold of Robb and forcefully drag him back to the house. “Let’s leave your little sister and your best friend alone for a few minutes, okay, honey?” Margaery says, her voice drifting off as the door clicks shut behind them. 

Sansa turns to Jon then, feeling all of a sudden shy and self-conscious. “So… weird night, huh?” 

“Did you really mean what you said, Sans?” he asks, foregoing small talk. “It’s okay if you didn’t.” 

“I do,” Sansa says confidently. “I really do.” 

“Oh thank god,” Jon laughs, circling her in his arms and kissing her as soundly as he had only moments before, only now it’s with a passion she knows come from somewhere deeper than just need and desire. He loves her. 

Jon Snow _loves_ her, and god save her because she really, truly loves him too. 


End file.
